“The maimed man lay in the room with the furniture that was covered with white sheets. At night one heard him groan. The pus ate deeper into his flesh, and oppressive dreams tormented him. Polzer listened. Death was in the house, waiting.”

What a disturbing tale, but not in the way of true horror. A more mundane, everyday horror. The "narrator" of Franz Polzer is an incredibly neurotic, pathetic mess of a human. If the green light at a crosswalk had a single bulb out, he would be beside himself and unable to cross the street. He is continuously trampled upon by the characters in this story and when he does stand up for himself even a little bit, there is nothing satisfactorily gained.

There should be some merit in the fact that I read this so blazingly quick, less than a full day after starting it. The story didn't grab me until the attendant had his first real dialogue, then I knew I needed to finish. That comes quite a bit late into things and I would not dismiss anyone who stopped reading this by the 100-page mark.

It was a fine book, nothing great to my eyes at least but a most vile and curious tale of what happens when you don't stand up for yourself.

3,5*
Uma tragicomédia muito rocambolesca que no fim fica um pouco macabra.

Faço minhas as palavras de Stefan Zweig : "Um livro maravilhoso e horrível, cativante e repulsivo, inesquecível, embora se ficasse contente por poder esquecê-lo."

A horny book wherein the narrator, Polzer (a bank clerk who is deeply private/horrified by what others think), must service the sexual desires of his landlady, Frau Porges, and, unrelated, also watch as his best friend, Karl, slowly succumbs to an unnamed disease.

Polzer tries to control his life by sticking to the same routine every day and by counting all of his possessions and making sure nothing has gone missing, but Karl eventually moves in with Polzer, and his paranoia (that someone is sleeping with his wife) begins to take over Polzer’s sense of security/routine.

It is revealed early on that Polzer had an abusive and sexually deviant father and this makes his (Polzer) sexual encounters horrifying. In the book, we see sexually abused people repeating cycles of abuse in a redemption-less world where one’s sins will be done over and over.

As things ramp up with Polzer and his landlady, an attendant to Karl, Sonntag, comes into the book late and drives themes and narrative to bloody ends. The twisted and unsettling story ultimately turns into a kind of Czech-gothic version of The Stranger with Sonntag pacing the floor and demanding repentance and a path towards Jesus.

“The maimed man lay in the room with the furniture that was covered with white sheets. At night one heard him groan. The pus ate deeper into his flesh, and oppressive dreams tormented him. Polzer listened. Death was in the house, waiting.” (140)